


The Blond Blacksmith

by GrayRose



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Work In Progress, fluff?, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-03-08 02:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13448535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayRose/pseuds/GrayRose
Summary: Genesis find an unexpected gem in the slums. He thinks he might want to keep it, or rather, him.Slow-going. Ratings may change. Scratch-pile fic.Usual disclaimer applies:I own nothing but the new plot, my writing style, and the occasional drawing.





	1. Chapter 1

          Cloud Strife made his way to Midgar alone when he was 12. Nibelheim, despite ostracizing him as a bastard of unknown origins, hadn’t wanted him to go. He was after all, their only blacksmith after Mom died. All of 5 foot 7 inches, he was still small by any standard, but he’d packed on a decent amount of muscle and was damn good. Mom had taught him what she could, and he’d taught himself from there, amasing even the most stingy townsfolk.

          Thing was, they took him for granted. Every traveler passing through told him he could make more money in Midgar, have more materials to use too. So he packed up in the middle of one night and left with one such traveler before dawn the next day. Not like there was anyone to say bye to anyway. The closest person to him was Tifa, and she just wanted him to make her a metal _crown._ Spoiled she-devil.

          A year later, he owned his own shop in Sector 5, near the church. Aerith, now 18, had all but adopted him when she found him wandering the slums the very day he arrived, and that had opens doors. _Lots_ of doors, because no one bothered Aerith and she’d decided that Cloud belonged to her. So when he asked around about work, and the community found out he worked with metals, he was practically handed an empty lot. He was given odd-jobs to make enough gil to build the place, and a few more to order the first supplies. Apparently there weren’t a lot of blacksmiths and there was a lot of work he could do.

          For the first year after the shop opened, he did repairs. Lots and lots of repairs. Every once in a while the mechanic next door sent someone over to fix dents, and the rare wealthy customer looking for cheap aesthetic add ons. The second year, Aerith forced him out into the community. Apparently he had a reputation to uphold. That lead to taking sculpture commissions with donated metal scraps. You wouldn’t think, with the way the slums looked, that people stuck together like that, but it turned out they _did_ care for their own. Outsiders on the other hand, did not receive the same courtesies.

          This year, much to everyone’s surprise, he’d finally gotten back to weaponry. For some reason they hadn’t expected a 15 year old to make weapons. Or decent weapons at that. They didn’t understand how dangerous his homeland had been. When he started talking about wolves as tall as himself, they looked at him like he’d lost his mind. So he didn’t talk about Nibelheim much, but he did make weapons. He made quality weapons, and it had swiftly become his main business. To the point that several of his competitors in other sectors came to observe the supposed prodigy, or as he’d been nicknamed, the Blond Blacksmith.

          He got the sense they didn’t like him competing for business at such a young age, but the beefy mechanic next door usually scared them into acceptance. Barret moved to Midgar after SHINRA shut down the Corel mines, putting him out of work.

          Now however, he was blatantly staring at the man in front of him, who was waving a sword around. Correction. The SOLDIER in front of him waving a twisted piece of junk.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

          Genesis was only here because of Scarlett’s incompetence. The woman was supposed to manage SOLDIER weapon repairs, and this was the last time he’d _ever_ leave a sword in her hands. He’d started to think Sephiroth and Angeal had the right idea on doing it themselves, but he didn’t have the patience or motivation for it. He didn’t have a custom blade like they did.

          After much research, he’d finally hunted down the elusive prodigy people had been raving about on the SHINRA provided networks. Elusive, because no one on or below plate would reveal his location in fear of SHINRA snatching him up. They never revealed his identity either, only referring to him as the Blond Blacksmith, Blacksmith, or just Blond. So he’d had to dirty his own boots _wandering around_ for _hours_ to find the inconveniently hidden shop in the Sector 5 _slums._

          Honestly, there wasn’t even a shop sign or advertisement.

          And now, after observing the blond at work and being _completely ignored_ until he cleared his throat and introduced himself, he wasn’t even sure this was the right blond weaponsmith. The teen, and it was a _teen_ , was staring at him blankly.

          “Well, can you _help_ me or _not?”_ He rephrased in irritation. That seemed to shift the blond’s focus from his face to the sword in his hand. Pursed lips, then sudden movement as the blond came closer to squint at the blade. He didn’t know _what_ Scarlett had tried to do but it had more notches in it than when he entrusted it to her and was physically _twisted._

          “Not if you ever bring a blade back in that condition again,” he heard a snort from below him, as the blond turned and began walking away, gesturing over his shoulder for Genesis to follow.

          “Well I won’t _have_ to if you prove yourself even _half_ as competent as your reputation,” he snapped back. Already this encounter was grating on his nerves, but he knew the slum people held little respect or regard for SHINRA and its SOLDIERs. “Word is you’re the best in Midgar, though your information is incredibly hard to find,” Genesis handed the sword over, watching as it was set down on a flat workspace.

          Without so much as a glance upward the response was only “My reputation precedes me, my _ego_ does not. The _fuck_ happened to this blade?” The question came out in an astounded tone. He couldn’t stifle the irritation any longer and settled for stomping his foot lightly. He realised the mistake as the walls rattled with the force of the impact and the blond’s gaze shot up to his face once more. He was about to make snide response to that, but then the blue gaze sharpened suddenly and he found himself being scrutinised heat to toe. He, a SOLDIER First Commander. Seeing little harm in it, he let the teen look and waited for… he wasn’t sure what. Recognition, awe perhaps. Another few moments passed, and Genesis found himself floored at what came out of the blacksmith’s mouth.

          “This blade is not suited to you,” was the only part he understood. After that, it devolved into some archaic language he could only _hint_ at recognising from the rich northern accent. “Come back two weeks, I’ll be done.”

          “If you expect fixing _this_ to take two weeks, I’ll be taking my business elsewhere Blondie,” he snorted, reaching for the SHINRA provided longsword. He stopped the motion in fear of harming the small blond as soon as the teen wrapped a calloused hand around the bladed portion.

          “Fuck no, not this piece of crap,” the blacksmith was pulling out paper and sketch materials. “You need something _designed for you,_ not standard. Give me your signature,” he was handed a sheet and pencil.

          “If you think for a moment you can use _-”_

          “First name only. Don’t care about the rest.”

          “... It’s Genesis,” he offered after a moment’s hesitation, seeing no harm in it. “You’re talking about a custom blade?”

          “Sign it,” the paper was gestured towards him again, “and talk to me about your fighting preferences.”

          This time, he took the paper.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

          Genesis left the shop an hour later, swordless. Not that he needed a sword on the way back to the tower, he would requisition a new one when he got there. He was also, much to his anxiousness, lighter by three of the materia he usually carried. How he’d let the blond talk him into this, Genesis had no clue. The promise of Blond’s reputation however, intrigued him, and he couldn’t let the opportunity go.

          The blond had gone through and selected three of the numerous materia he typically carried on his person, citing it as both a down-payment and materials. It wasn’t until he’d left the shop and found himself up-plate that he thought to check which ones it was that Blond had selected, and found, much to his discomfort, Elemental, Magic Plus, and an Ifrit summon were no longer in his possession. All three of which were mastered.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

          At the end of the day, Cloud arrived at the house with his mind whirring full of possibilities for the new project. He already had one solid idea, with the materia, that he’d done before in Nibelheim. Not intended for _this_ particular use, but he knew what he wanted to do was possible. It was more a matter of collecting the right materials.

          Aerith waved at him as he passed her in the kitchen, and he grunted in response before going upstairs to dig through his trunk. He hadn’t brought much from Nibelheim, and he’d been holding on to it for something special, but he couldn’t think of anything more unique than a custom sword for a SOLDIER First Class, and a commander no less. This was the kind of project he was eagerly willing to pull out all stops, even if it meant using the Nibel Metal he’d managed to collect before leaving the mountains.

          It was a resource the natives had made sure SHINRA never even discovered. Stronger than the steel normally used for swords, and with a rather unique property. Nibel Metal, at the right temperature, could melt materia to infuse with it, to fold it into it. Unlike other metals where the the materia would shatter, this could make it part of the metal _and,_ most importantly, maintain the properties of the materia rather than it become liquid mako. They weren’t sure why it worked the way it did, but Cloud let a small grin slip on to his face at the mental image of the sword he was going to make.

 

**A/N: Scratch-pile fic, means I got plans for this but might not write it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp this got wrote yo. Should I use the plot? I have a plot for this. Idk

          Genesis was more anxious than he’d been in a long,  _ long _ time. He was excited, but doing his best to hide the reason as he escaped Angeal and made his way out of the tower, below plate, and into the shop. He didn’t know what to expect, at all, and hadn’t gotten any updates seeing as Blond had no PHS. What had him so thrilled at the prospective new blade though, was the research he’d been doing online. Previous high quality commissions for travelers, raving reports of the Blacksmith’s ingenuity. He feared briefly, over the past two weeks, that he should have provided more material, but Blond would have asked for it if he needed it.

          There were two other men in the shop, speaking with Blond, before being handed something small that he couldn’t see from the angle he was at, but they nodded gratitude to the teen and took their leave, allowing sapphire pools to focus on him. He was gestured once more to follow, and this time they emerged in the back of the small lot, where there was an outdoor space to test out weaponry.

          “You don’t let anyone touch this,” the blond began setting a case on an outdoor workbench and unlatching the clasps, “except you, and me, got it?” 

          Genesis might have been mildly affronted at being given what was essentially an order, but when the blade,  _ his _ blade, was lifted from the case and held out to him, his mouth hung open in the most undignified expression anyone had seen on him before. He could  _ feel _ the magic from the sword, even standing meters away, and it was gorgeous. Angeal’s Buster was well constructed, but looked like a chunky over-sized blade. Masamune was sleek and good for the PR department, but a seven foot sword was practical  _ only _ for someone like Sephiroth. What he saw in front of him, Genesis could only describe as perfect as he reached out to clasp the handle in one hand, and as he held it up to run the back of a finger down, keeping the oil from his fingertips off of it, and it hit him instantly just  _ why _ the blade struck a chord with him.

          It was a rapier, well suited to his personal flair in fighting. The blue Elemental materia was set snugly into the pommel, and he could see the purple glow of Magic Plus between the literal metal  _ wings _ on the crossguard. The hilt was wrapped in soft leather, dyed black as night, but he could feel that it was thick, as if it padded his grip and formed to his hand as he grasped it. The metal of the handle itself was the darkest silver, and as smooth as if it were glass. It did, in fact as he rotated his wrist, have an element of translucency, making it sparkle as the light hit different angles. What had the biggest impact on him though, what left the impression that this blond teenager truly knew what he was doing, was the blade. Lined on the keen edges with the same material as the handle, the main expense of the blade was a crimson near identical to the coat he was known to wear, seemingly the same material as the rest but more substantial and filled with colour. The glowing red colour of an Ifrit summon, like it had been somehow combined within the blade. He could  _ feel _ the summons energy linked through the materia, waiting to be called forth from its native plane. 

          He considered the materia combination in his hand, though, and realised that with the Elemental built in to the construction of his sword, Ifrit could not fully be called forth, only the power of his flames, his inferno. The Elemental materia confined element oriented magic to what it was equipped to, meaning his blade would light up like a blaze. It was something he never even would have thought of, a highly unorthodox concept, truly…. “Ingenious,” he muttered as he focused on the summon, felt Ifrit’s attention grow on the link between materia and the creature. It realised it’s confinement but was not angry, choosing instead to force as much energy, as much heat out as possible into the outlet provided. In an instant, the blade was engulfed in hot flames. His sword was on fire.

          His  _ sword _ was on fire.

          It _literally_ _ became fire. _

          Genesis’ brain short circuited in the thrill and adrenaline rush, and the next instance he was aware of, he was kissing a wide eyed blond and realising, now that he paid close attention, the teenager was just as gorgeous if not more so than his new sword.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wtf am I doing with my life

          After the shock of what had transpired finally wore off, the blond reinforced that he be the only other to touch the sword. The metal, as it turned out, was rather unknown to SHINRA and he wanted it to stay that, so any maintenance or repairs he might need, Genesis agreed to bring it to the blond.

          The sword itself was named after its style, Rapier. Rather simple, he’d thought, but Genesis knew he’d never be able to decide on a name for it on his own. The Rapier didn’t need a unique name, it stood out on its own just fine.

          It was when they finally brought the discussion back to the kiss, that the blond began to stutter. To the fluttering in Genesis’ mind and loud beat of his heart, he learned that it had been not only the teen’s first kiss with another man, but his first kiss entirely, and that the Blond Blacksmith’s real name once it was offered, was  _ Cloud. Cloud Strife. _

          And so began his new routine of dodging SHINRA security to meet at the shop once a month for regular maintenance, and of course, to be able to spend a few hours in Cloud’s utterly delightful company getting to know him.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

          At a month in, he’d finally given in to Sephiroth desire to  _ test his metal _ , said in reference to Rapier, resulting in his first physical repair to Rapier. The blade had already seen its fair share of use, but not with the strength of First Class as its opponent nor the intensity of Masamune’s edge, or the Buster’s sheer solidity. At Cloud’s indignation, he admitted the small nicks along the edge were the result of said spar with Sephiroth, but found himself immensely satisfied by the lack of reaction to the man’s name. It had become increasingly clear over the course of their interactions that Cloud based his opinion of someone entirely on his  _ personal _ interaction with them, and that extended to include even the most idolised of SOLDIER. It made him feel as though he’d gotten one over on Sephiroth, having a head start with the blond.

          He caught himself then, and wondered just what he’d meant by a head start.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

          Angeal had become curious over his excursions below plate, the increasingly frequent disappearances. Genesis had done his best to dissuade the man from following him, but then Angeal had taken his concerns to Sephiroth, and they’d attempted an intervention of sorts in his apartment. He’d only escaped by assuring them that now, what he did on his own time was in no way detrimental to his health or career. If anything, he told them, it was beneficial to his mental health. They’d let it slide, but he knew the curiosity remained and took it upon himself to speak with Tseng. His activities were now blacklisted on a routine basis, anytime he intended to visit the blond.

          Much to Cloud’s displeasure, however, Tseng had demanded to know where he was going, and they found themselves in the small shop once more. The Turks it seemed, had more than once attempted to forcefully recruit him as their own exclusive weaponsmith. The disapproval of a mutual acquaintance he came to know as Aerith resulted in Cloud’s release each time, though the girl never did explain how she’d gotten the Turks wrapped around her finger.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

          Before he realises, half a year has gone by since he met Cloud. It doesn’t seem seem like it, but he knows it’s true because of how much he’d learned about the other. How much he’d been  _ allowed _ to know. Cloud was the quiet type, certainly, but at some point the blond had accepted him and Aerith took it upon herself to educate him about the blond that captured his interest and his favour. Cloud in turn knows more about him as well, though he wasn’t likely to admit it.

          Genesis has, over the course of the half year, grown very fond of the blond teen. Were it not for the four year age gap, he would have made a move long before, but instead had taken his time in getting to know him. He’d become very attached, and very protective, even if the blond didn’t know it. When a part of him said  _ possessive _ instead of protective, he told it to shut up, even he knew it to be true. So what if he was a bit obsessive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is plot. This is plot. This is the whole plot. Super short.

        That slight obsession in his core, however, flourished under Aerith’s careful cultivation. It’s existence was thriving, even if he denied it as long as possible. So when one Zack Fair, Angeal’s energetic Puppy, came to him bragging on and on about going on a mission, falling off the plate and through a church roof, meeting the flower lady, he almost,  _ almost _ ignored the endless chatter. Until the story continued and the flower lady, his mind screamed Aerith’s name at him, brought Zack to a blacksmith, a blond blacksmith, and he met the quote  _ hottest little jailbait who fixed my sword. _

        At the implication that Zack would return and try to coerce his blond into a date, Genesis abruptly stood up, silencing the Puppy, and stormed out of the offices to get away, to think. To try and quell the sudden animosity and indignation he felt towards the newest First Class. He couldn’t bring himself to admit it was jealousy, and fear at being supplanted from Cloud’s life.

        So Genesis went to talk to Aerith, who had always been encouraging of his interests in Cloud. Who laid his options out in the simplest terms possible, and suggested the one she wanted him to choose. Which lead him to casting Sleep before the blond could notice his presence, and whisking Cloud away to his apartment before leaving for the day.

        They could talk about it when he got back. Cloud would get over it.

        Eventually.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't even apologise for this.

        Cloud had a routine, every morning. A very simple routine.

        A routine that did _not_ invlove waking up in an empty apartment with no memory of how he got there, and no means of escape seeing as the cityscape was hundreds of feet below the windows.

        So he was justifiably grumpy at the disruption of his routine. It wasn’t even _morning,_ it was late at night. His sleep schedule would suffer for a few days until he caught back up, but for now he settled on staring angrily at the door he couldn’t open. There wasn’t even a handle on this side.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

        When Genesis comes leisurely traipsing in through the door with no handle, Cloud is bored out of his mind. Has been for hours. Hours which he could have spent hammering away at metal or sketching new designs.

        Not only is Cloud bored, he is angry. He voices as much as soon as they make eye contact.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

**“** What the fuck, Genesis. You can’t just knock people out and lock them away in your apartment,” he sees the auburn smile at him. Fucking smile.

        “Yes I can.”

        “No, you _can’t._ I had other appointments today, other customers.”

        “You needn’t concern yourself with them any longer, they can go elsewhere.”

        “The fuck? Look, I consider you a priority customer but I can’t spend anymore time here, I need to get back to the shop,” he emphasises. Genesis blinks at him.

        “I can easily pay you the total sum of what you make from every customer combined-”

        “That’s not the _point,_ Genesis, there are other people who _rely_ on me to-”

        “If you’re referring to those orphans you take care of-”

        “You’ve been _watching me?!_ ” his voice pitched up few notes.

        “They will all be well taken care of-”

        “You _have!_ You fucking stalker, you-”

        “I’ve given Miss Aerith sufficient funds to support a small village of them for years-”

        “You _leave Aer out of this,_ ” Cloud’s tone dropped to its lowest.

        “When this was her idea? She agreed this was to your benefit-”

        “What?! What are you-”

        “So I’ve taken the liberty of cancelling your apartment rental-”

        “ _You did_ ** _what-”_** he was shouting now. Neither of them were finishing sentences.

        “And you needn’t worry about the refund, it was a pitiful excuse of-”

        “But that was-!”

        “What Aerith decided,” Genesis stops him once more. “She said I could have you. You’ll live here with me and I’ll provide whatever you need. That way I don’t have to waste time going below plate anymore, and I can monopolize you.”

        Cloud stares. Cloud stares some more. Cloud blinks.

        “You just- but I- she-” Cloud drags a fingernail across his forearm and watches small beads of blood form. “This **_is_ ** real. What in bahamut’s name-”

        “You’d better not have self harming tendencies or I’ll restrain you while I’m gone. Until I can trust you not to damage yourself,” Genesis is muttering casually, going to the open kitchen for a glass of water.

        Cloud freezes, no longer pacing in agitation.

        “You- what- You’re insane. Absolutely _insane._ That’s _it,”_ he goes to the door, beginning to pound on it since he can’t get out on his own. “HELP! HELP ME SOMEONE! ANYONE! HE’S KEEPING ME AGAINST MY W-” he is cut off as a hand clamps over his mouth, arms wrapped around him from behind.

        “Knock that off or Angeal will hear you- _tss!_ You _bit_ me!” the hand quickly moves away from his mouth to be inspected. Despite only one arm holding him, Cloud still can’t get out of the SOLDIER’s grasp.

        “I don’t know who that _is_ but GOOD! HELP ME! PLEASE HELP! I NEED-” he freezes mid sentence as only air comes out. His voice is suddenly gone.

        “Honestly Cloud,” Genesis is holding a yellow materia. Manipulate. “I’ve casted an isolated Stop spell on your vocal chords,” the arm around him releases and Cloud’s hands fly to his neck, grasping it in horror. “You can breathe _just_ fine, you just can’t _talk_ until I release the cast. I’m a- no, Cloud, stop that, don’t panic. I’m a materia expert so there won’t be any lasting damage,” he is saying as Cloud streaks from the room to find another, to find _any_ room to lock himself inside.

        He knows the SOLDIER could easily break the interior doors down but does it anyway, switching the latch to the bathroom door. The footsteps approaching outside are slow, unhurried.

        “Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Genesis says from the other side, but Cloud doesn’t respond. He can’t _believe_ Aerith would do this. He wasn’t a fucking object she could give away. But on a deeper level, he knew it was _exactly_ the sort of thing she would do if it would give him a better life. Selfless prima donna.

        “I’ll be considerate and leave you here then,” he hears from Genesis. “When you’ve calmed enough to come out, we can talk about this more.”

 

        Gaia-damned altruistic humanitarian flower grower. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ran out of plot. Ideas?**


	6. Chapter 6

        To Reno’s absolute joy, Tseng has him hunting down a certain hot ass little blond for the past week. He’s the only Turk on good terms with Blond because he hadn’t participated in the few  _ recruitment _ attempts. He’s also the only Turk who knows the name  _ Cloud, _ and he prides himself on being in the clear with Jailbait.

        To his utter frustration, however, he hasn’t seen a single blond hair left behind anywhere to indicate where the kid had gone. It took Tseng two days to notice he’d disappeared, but Bossman refused to bother Aerith with questions, knowing she’ll get mad at him for keeping tabs on her friend.

        Reno has no such hesitance, and after the past few days with no results, confronts her in the church. She sighs, and leads him back to the house. He’s only been inside once before, for some of Cloud’s specialty imported coffee, which he notes is no longer on the counter as they pass through the kitchen, and he wonders if Aerith’s finally convinced Cloud to eat healthier, or if Blondie’s been taken ill and been forced to stay in bed. 

        After a roundabout conversation which Aerith is clearly steering any direction she wants, he bluntly asks where Cloudy’s been the past few days and Aerith looks at him. Just looks, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. Like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with what she says.

        “I gave him to GenGen,” she states, and starts to giggle at whatever expression is on his face. Because Reno knows Genesis has been visiting the blond, knows the SOLDIERs monthly, or more frequent, visits have been blacklisted to prevent others from following. He understood the possessive feeling that comes with knowing Cloud, but he never thought Aerith would actively encourage someone to take home the little brother she’d adopted three years ago.

        He can’t wait to look at the security footage from the tower.

 

        When he finallys brings the information to Tseng’s attention, shows him the video of Genesis sneaking through the building with an unconscious blond in his arms, he doesn’t bother holding back the laughter that echoes through the Turk floor. Bossman is gaping like a fish, mouth slipping open as if to say something, as if in shock, before it snaps shut, until it drops open again to repeat the process.

        It’s understandable though, because Tseng’s been trying to do the same thing for two years now and Aerith never let him. Somehow, she always knew when the Turks had taken Cloud. Yet in waltzes Genesis Rhapsodos with Aerith’s full permission to kidnap the blond and hold him permanently hostage.

        When they stand shoulder to shoulder, to knock on Genesis’ apartment door, no one answers despite them knowing Rhapsodos is in. When Tseng overrides the security functions on the lock system, they aren’t sure what to expect. 

        Definitely not the Blond Blacksmith silently screaming and throwing anything within reach at a smiling Genesis.

        Most of all not a hot ass, lithe blond wearing nothing but boxers and a  _ collar _ , of all things.

        Instantly, Reno knows the sight will fuel his fantasies for weeks to come.

        Heh. Come.

**~O~O~O~O~O~**

        When Genesis finally takes note of the intrusion, he speeds immediately to the door and shuts it again just as Cloud makes to bolt past them. Blondie doesn’t have enhancements though, so it’s no contest who wins. The younger teen is left pounding on the door in frustration before turning a furious stare at Genesis, and mouthing what has to be the filthiest compilation of swears Reno can imagined. And he only catches half of it, because he’s never been good at reading lips.

        Tseng clearly caught the majority of it though, as he tightens his hair tie and rubs at the tension above his eyebrows.

        “Oh hush! It’s been a week already, just accept it!” Genesis encourages, and Reno watches intently as Cloud reacts. He’s yelling, or at least Reno assumes he’s yelling, and yanking at the collar. It ends with a middle finger, a mimed death threat as the finger slides across a pale neck, and the blond stomping away, down a hallway and into what Reno knows is a spare bedroom based off the floor blueprints.

        “Untameable spitfire,” the auburn laments, turning back to them after the display. “What do you want?”

        “How’d you get him collared?” is the first thing that slips out of Reno’s mouth, and Tseng shoots him a look. Still, he holds off as if the answer might lend some insight to the situation.

        “Used a sleep spell, though their effectiveness is wearing off on him. I had it customised in the labs so it only unlocks with my fingerprints.”

        “You felt this necessary why?” Tseng asks pointedly, and Genesis only sighs, gesturing for the living room. They move to take seats on the sofa.

        “To remind him Aerith gave him to me. He stubbornly refuses to accept that he’s mine. Coffee?” the First gestures to an expensive coffee machine, and Reno notes the bag of Cloud’s favoured brand on the counter next to it. Neither of them accepts the offer though.

        “And his vocal capabilities?”

        “A temporary measure, of course. I won’t explain the method. I couldn’t have him shouting for Angeal to hear, he’d come stomping in and jump to unsightly conclusions.”

        “Right, cause there’s a whole lot here ta misunderstand’n all,” Reno mutters, but Genesis catches it, prompting him to continue. “He obviously ain’t here of his own will, and you put a  _ collar  _ on him.”

        “That was actually a suggestion from Aerith. She’s quite content with the situation. I just have to calm him down enough he stops screaming and listens to reason.”

        Tseng snorts at that. “Regardless of the circumstances, will he be taking commissions? We can have his workshop reconstructed on our floor to keep him… occupied.”

        “Perhaps. I’d much rather keep him all to myself, but I suppose he’ll get bored with routine maintenance. He’s quite genius in his designs,” Genesis hums, considering. “Three conditions.”

        Tseng nods.

        “One, I get him when I want him, he’s mine. Two, keep Angeal, Sephiroth, and  _ Zackary _ as far from him as possible. I’ll not have them meddling with my progress. Three, his workshop is constructed here, in my apartment.”

        “Deal,” Tseng reaches to shake his hand, and with that, he turns to leave.

        Reno moves to follow, only shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the entire situation.


End file.
